No Apologies
by alaricnomad
Summary: They would never be sorry for taking the risk to be together. No take backs, no apologies. ONESHOT.


**Notes: AU from S1. Not really specific. Just think of it like this: Nathan and Heidi stayed together, Nathan and Claire have grown close, Claire came to live with the Petrellis after deciding to go to college in New York.**

**Warnings: Canon (mostly), therefore incest. Rated for heavy sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. **

**No Apologies**

It had started raining unexpectedly that afternoon when Claire returned to the Petrelli manor after classes. Currently in her junior year, she had a little leniency in her schedule and managed to return home before anyone else. After changing, she gathered her books and set up camp at the breakfast bar, accepting the offer of a mug of cocoa from the maid before the older woman disappeared to parts unknown.

Knowing not to expect Nathan back from the office until dinner and Heidi occupied with Simon's swim practice and Monty's piano lesson (Angela, thankfully, lived elsewhere these days), it was no surprise to Claire that Peter was the next one home. She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing when he appeared in the doorway, soaked through to the bone despite his jacket, his face downcast.

Finding his petulant expression adorable, Claire shook her head and smiled. "Try not to drip too much on the floor. I'll go get you a towel."

She returned a few moments later with the aforementioned towel and a pair of his sweats, receiving a murmur of gratitude when he disappeared into the laundry room. She was filling the kettle with water, figuring he'd appreciate tea, when he returned, dressed in the sweatpants and a damp-spotted but not soaked tank. He slid into one of the stools, glancing at the outspread textbooks on the island, before looking back up at her.

"Hey, isn't that my shirt?"

Claire shrugged, though the move only managed to cement Peter's suspicions when the shirt, far too large for her, slipped down her shoulder and left bare an expanse of smooth, golden skin. Peter sidled up behind her, pressing his lips to the exposed flesh. Claire shivered in response, leaning back against him as his hands went to her hips.

"Mmm, maybe it is, maybe it isn't."

Peter chuckled, beginning a path of slow, openmouthed kisses up her neck. Tracing his tongue over the sensitive place behind her ear, he was rewarded by another series of shudders. "Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure those are my shorts too."

"Are they?"

"Hmm-mm," he slid his hands down to the hem of the drawstring shorts, hanging low on her hips. He caught her earlobe between his teeth, bringing his fingers to the knot holding the bottoms closed as she softly moaned, pushing back against him to feel a quickly-rising response nestled against her behind.

"Why don't you take 'em back then?" she managed to gasp out, tilting her head around to kiss him properly when suddenly the front door slammed.

They flew apart like exploding shrapnel as Nathan came in, loosening his tie and tossing his briefcase onto a nearby chair. "Jesus, what a day."

He looked around the kitchen, his daughter giving him a distracted smile as she gathered up her books and papers, his brother leaning against the counter with his face turned away (was he blushing?). He was distracted from wondering about Peter's peculiar behavior when Claire approached him, kissing his cheek in greeting. Nathan instantly softened, greeting her with a warm hug as she beamed up at him.

"You're home early, Nathan."

"Hmm, yes. We finished up early, so I decided to call it a day. The whole thing was such a headache, I thought I deserved the break."

Claire giggled, leaning up to give him another peck. "I think you deserve it. I'm going to take my homework upstairs now that people are coming home. See you at supper?"

"You bet." He patted her shoulder and distracted by slipping off his suit jacket, he missed the look that passed between the other two in the room, Claire's mostly amused as she looked pointedly at where Peter was pressed against the island divider, high enough to be just above waist-level. He narrowed his eyes at her as she passed, earning an over-exaggerated fluttering of her eyelashes. Peter rolled his eyes, concentrating on cooling himself down.

"Pete? How long has that been heating up?"

Peter's eyes bugged at his brother's unintentional double entendre, to a situation he wasn't even aware he had interrupted. "Um, what?"

"The kettle. It's whistling. Don't you think you should take it off the burner?"

Peter coughed, mentally shaking himself as he moved to do just that. "Right. You know, I changed my mind about the tea. I think I'm just going to go read awhile. See you at dinner?"

"Yeah…" was the only reply Nathan could muster as Peter scurried away, leaving the politician to stare puzzled at the empty doorway.

It was only a moment later that Peter found Claire lingering in the hall, the cat-caught-the-canary expression on her face making obvious she had heard every word. "You are in so much trouble," he growled, slowly advancing toward her.

She backed up at step, giving him a coy look. "You mean I'm in trouble, or I am trouble."

"Both," he grumbled.

"Yeah, well, trouble or not, I'm pretty sure we just bought ourselves a couple of free hours."

She watched the annoyed look in his eyes slowly shift as realization set in, replaced by a glimmer of mischief that gave her only a second of warning before he suddenly lunged at her. She slipped out of his grasp, and flashed him a teasing smile before racing up the stairs, making sure not to stomp so not to draw Nathan's attention.

Claire's bedroom was the first in their path and they ducked inside. Peter closed the door behind him, securing the lock. "You know," he said matter-of-factly, "If we keep being so obvious we're certain to be found out in no time."

"Peter," she said softly, slipping her arms around his neck, "You worry too much."

He sighed, "I know. I'm just can't help thinking..."

"Then don't think about it. We'll deal when the time comes," she answered, her voice low as she kissed his neck, continuing upward to nibble on his earlobe, "Besides, there're other things I'd rather you have on your mind."

"Mmm," was his only response as he let the matter go, lowering his head to seek her lips. He found them, and when they parted beneath his, thrust his tongue inside to explore her.

His hands slipped just under the hem of her shirt, caressing the soft skin of her lower back. She let out a low moan and he skimmed them higher, the rough and calloused quality to his hands feeling wonderfully sensual against her smooth flesh. With a gentle urge of his hands, she raised her arms above her head, allowing him to pull off her top. He took a step back, just giving himself a moment to look at her. The love and desire in his eyes, the reverence in his expression, was enough to take her breath away. She backed her way toward the bed, never taking her eyes off of his, and quickly lay back. She reached for him and he came to her, as if drawn in by a spell. And he was, ensnared by her in every possible way, drawn in by a web of magic that was hers alone.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, crawling up the blankets to settle himself over her. She pushed up the hem of his tank, eager to meet bare skin. He shrugged it off, returning to her embrace and he kissed her, his lips sliding over hers with the finesse only a beloved lover could possess.

They rolled over and Claire straddled him, running her hands down his chest and stomach, tracing over the shape and definition of the lean muscles she knew with a thrilling fluency. She scattered kisses wherever she touched, looking up at him briefly with a glint of mischief. She slipped her hands lower, into the depths of his sweats, and Peter let out a low groan as she found his arousal, fingers wrapping firmly around him.

She stroked him, giving him a knowing squeeze, earning another hoarse groan from deep in his throat. He took her hands in his, tucking them behind his neck, and he rolled them both over, pinning her beneath him. "My turn," he growled.

He kissed her again, this time taking full possession. He tore his mouth away to kiss the rest of her, nuzzling her neck. He nibbled at a spot just below her collarbone, making his way down to the valley between her breasts. He took one into his mouth, cupping the other within his palm. He was gentle as he suckled, nipped, and massaged, urged on by her soft sounds of pleasure. He raising his eyes to hers, sliding his hands down to the hem of her bottoms. She gave him a languid smile, face flushed with pleasure as she gave him a nod of silent permission.

He unlaced the ties to her shorts (his, really), drawing them down to expose smooth, slender legs. He tugged down her panties, sliding his fingers inside her. He moved his hand against her, peppering kisses along her neck. He twisted his fingers, crooking them, and swiping his thumb over her clit, she came, the quickness of her climax surprising them both as she let out a sharp, startled cry. Claire clung to his shoulders as she rode out the waves of her pleasure, Peter gently working her down, sinking down sated into the tenderness of his embrace.

Claire opened her eyes, panting, to see him hovering above her. His expression was soft and open as he gazed down at her, gently brushing the hair away from her face. She lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, taking in the tension in his face, the sweat beading against his forehead, the hunger glittering in his eyes. Knowing what he needed, she reached between them and tugged down his pants. Peter lifted enough to hike them off, quickly returning to her to settle between her thighs. He leaned down, kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, lingering on her lips. "I love you."

She smiled, running her hands up his back to link them around his neck, "I love you, too." She moved against him with purpose, kissed him hard on the mouth. "Now, Peter, please."

Peter lifted up, positioning himself, when there was a sudden, disruptive (and wholly unwelcome) knock on the door.

"Dammit," he groaned, albeit quietly, reluctantly rolling off of her. Claire smiled wanly, equally as disappointed herself. She made her way to the closet, grabbing her robe. Peter grumbled uncomfortably as he stepped into and pulled up his pants, wincing at the sudden strain in his lower region. She gave him a look, chiding him for the sound.

"Who is it?" she called.

"Heidi, sweetheart."

Peter winced as his sister-in-law's voice filtered through the door. He stifled a sigh, mournfully looking down at his wilting erection.

_We have the worst luck, don't we? Ciao, my friend._

Claire cleared her throat. "Heidi, do you need something?"

"It's five o'clock, darling. We really should start getting you ready."

Claire shared a puzzled glance with her lover. "Get ready for what?"

There was a pregnant pause and then her stepmother continued speaking. "The banquet tonight. Did you forget?"

'Tonight?' Claire mouthed to him, her expression blanketed with utter confusion.

Peter arched his eyebrows. 'No idea.'

'Such help.' She replied with a sardonic twist to her mouth.

He shrugged. 'Sorry.'

Before she could blink, Peter was suddenly before her, arms tight around her, mouth slanting over hers. Quickly hot and heavy between them as it always became, she pulled at his hair, scratching her nails against his scalp, desperate to have him closer. There were little sounds of pleasure she tried to quiet, and with every small moan she made, Peter's male ego swelled as much as the arousal between them.

_Welcome back, buddy. _

Muffling a groan of his own, he cupped her behind in his hands, pushing her flush against him. He thrust against her and Claire whimpered, legs instinctively parting. She rubbed herself against him, mewling with need, and Peter let out a low growl, giving another thrust.

A sharp rap at the bedroom door, "Claire, are you alright?"

Claire abruptly broke the kiss, shoving at her lover's chest to push him away, glaring at him as she put distance between them. He was unrepentant, his only response a cheeky grin. 'Bastard' she mouthed and he winked, sneaking one last kiss before he disappeared.

Teleportation. _Ass. _

She smoothed down her hair to the best of her ability, opened the door, and face the concerned Heidi with a weak smile. "Of course I didn't forget. Where do you want to start?"

xx

This may just end up being the longest night of his life.

Peter fidgeted uncomfortably, tugging at the collar he was certain was part of a conspiracy to kill him. If not by strangulation, then just the utter discomfort of the damn thing. In the corner of his mind, he wondered if his brother had possibly caught wind of his and Claire's relationship, and decided of an unconventional method of getting him out of the way. Knowing Nathan, it was entirely possible.

Peter shook his head, determined to do away with the ridiculous thoughts. Stifling a weary sigh, he turned and headed for the bar, wishing not for the first time that his girl's healing ability allowed for him to get sloshed.

Despite his utter reluctance to attend that night's event, he struck an impressive figure. His tuxedo, jet-black in color, was well-fit to him in a way that drew many an appraising eye from the ladies. The jacket was slim, cummerbund snug, allowing his button-down shirt, silk and tailor-made, to cling to and showcase his trim, leanly muscled body. Slicked hair, shining shoes, and light glinting off cufflinks bearing his family seal, he appeared as the perfect high-society gentleman. Save for his ever-darkening scowl.

Speaking of reasons for a darker mood, he just barely held back a groan as he spotted his brother headed in his direction. He veered off his path toward the blessed alcohol and turned to go in the other direction.

Only to be stopped in his tracks, feeling again the need to groan for an entirely different reason.

He had always known Claire to be beautiful, no matter the circumstance, but tonight, everyday didn't hold a candle to the vision before him.

Her dress, cerulean blue, stood out brilliantly among the seas of drab and somber. With an open back, and the skirt falling to just above her knees, his eyes were treated to a feast of smooth, silken golden skin. He couldn't help a smile as he spotted the slingbacks she so complained about, but appreciated how they accented those glorious legs he so wanted, and remembered, wrapped around him. He let his gaze travel upward, having to remember to breathe as he lingered on the dress's front cut, the dip just barely considered decent, giving a teasing hint of the soft, amble swells underneath. Her sun-kissed curls tumbled freely around her shoulders and her eyes were sparkling, her smile dazzling.

Peter swallowed hard, unsuccessful around the sudden lump in his throat. He was the one that smile was directed at, after all.

"Peter, finally. There's someone I want you to meet."

Even considering that it took all his willpower to tear his eyes form the alluring blonde to face his disgruntled brother, Peter was impressed by Nathan's ability to keep up his politician's mask despite the potent irritation the empath could see in his eyes.

Peter mustered the best smile he could, but before he had to speak, Claire chose that moment to intervene.

There was that smile again, beautiful and bright in a way that mesmerized you, left you so dazzled you momentarily lost your train of thought. Peter felt her place a hand against his arm, and she turned that dangerous smile on her father.

"Good evening, Senator Billings," she nodded toward the grandfatherly politician, the man smiling fondly at her from behind his bushy mustache. "Dad," something she only really called him in public, " I was hoping I might borrow Uncle Peter for a little while. I've wanted to dance, but you know how boys are…"

Nathan caught the inflection to her voice and made a face. He knew boys, and men, indeed. He thought fondly of the gun locked up in his study at home. "Actually, Claire, I was hoping-"

"Please?" she pulled off the perfect pout (Peter couldn't help but be proud, and feel sorry for his brother- no man stood a chance against that pout) and Nathan softened instantly.

"Fine."

As she looped her arm through his, Peter gladly let himself be dragged away without further ado.

"Thanks for the save, sweetheart," he whispered to her as they made their way through the crowd, "I owe you one."

"No problem, handsome," she replied, sotto voce, as they found a place out on the dance floor, "You can repay me later."

He bowed with a flourish, giving her a smile, and there was a confidence, a light to him that made it hard to reconcile this man with the bored, sullen figure she had encountered only moments before. This was her hero, the man who had saved her life, as she had his in return. In his eyes there were traces of her lover, the man who had taken her to bed and made her a woman.

He was also the man who played games and gave piggy-back rides with his nephews, her _brothers_, who helped care for them when they were sick and soothed away tears when they fell and skinned a knee. She wondered, deep in the back of her mind, if he would have treated her the same if they had grown up together, if she had been raised to think of him as her lovable, dorky uncle instead of her complete awareness of him as a _man_. No, here he was her Uncle Peter, not the man who touched her in ways no one could ever know about in the shadows, and he never would be.

He was a graceful dancer, his step sure and nimble and his arm strong around her waist. He towered over her, but it was comforting instead of intimidating, his smiling face hovering above reassuringly as they moved together through the intricate moves of the dance.

"…beautiful, you know that?" he commented softly, his eyes on her, making her realize with a blush that she'd lost herself in her thoughts.

He answered her quizzical expression with a low chuckle. "You, Claire. You look beautiful tonight."

She smiled slightly. "Thank you."

"How on earth did you convince Heidi to let you out of the house looking like this?"

"I think she was looking for a little revenge on Nathan for the last time."

"Last time?"

Her lips curved up into a smirk. "The state dinner last month. When he was flirting with the Governor's daughter."

"Oh," Peter cocked an eyebrow, "In Nathan's defense, the girl wouldn't leave him alone. She was rather grabby up until the first course when Heidi came back from the restroom."

Claire's eyes darkened for a moment, and she made an irritated sound. "Then she set her sights on you, as I recall. That certainly wasn't _my _hand on your leg."

"And I excused myself right away," he patiently replied, smoothly twirling her. "Governor Templar watched us like a hawk for the rest of the night."

She returned to him, once more in his embrace. "Didn't give us a single chance to slip away," she wryly replied.

Peter let out a quiet laugh.

"Your hair's falling out of place," she commented softly, reaching up to brush away a stray lock of hair from his eyes, smoothing it back against his forehead. She sighed and crinkled her nose with exasperation as said lock of hair fell right back to where it had been.

"It does that."

"Mmm, I like it better down anyway."

He smiled and she reached out to touch him again, brushing her fingers against his cheek. Peter's expression tensed, and he gently pushed her hand away. "You shouldn't touch me like that."

Hurt flashed through green eyes. "All I did was touch your face, Peter. Should we be expecting someone to call the police?"

He made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a growl. "Not what I meant. With the way you look in that dress, one more touch and I won't be able to restrain myself from making a spectacle."

She gave him a look, eyes now a smoky emerald. "Oh? How good do you think that restraint is?"

He growled. "Not enough for you to push, woman. Unless you think my taking you on one of those tables is the best way to go public."

"Mmm," the sound was sensual, thoughtful, and he bit back a groan as she licked her lips.

"Claire," he gritted out exasperatedly.

She sighed, giving him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. It's just hard."

The hand on her hip tightened, and he stared off somewhere behind her shoulder. "I know, Claire. I know what being with me puts you through. I can't kiss you here. I can't even dance with you properly. You deserve better than this, than me."

She cocked her head slightly to the side. "Regardless of any of that, we're in this too deep, Peter. Unless you're changing your mind…?"

He shook his head, horrified she would even suggest such a thing. "Of course not."

"We've made our decision. We're in this together. No one else can decide for us."

He sighed. "You're right."

"Haven't you learned by now, love? I'm always right."

"Of course. What was I thinking?" he gave a soulful, wide-eyed look, what she liked to call his 'puppy dog' eyes. "Forgive me?"

She smiled at him, giggling as he spun her. "Forgiven."

As wrapped up in each other as they were, they did not notice the pair of dark eyes that had been watching their every move. The brooding gaze belonged to one Nathan Petrelli, brother and father respectively. He deeply frowned as he continued to study the 'couple' further.

Peter was strong and confident as he moved elegantly with his niece in his arms, Claire beautiful and graceful as she matched her uncle's movements, the two of them almost regal as they glided across the dance floor. It was undeniable how striking a pair they made. That didn't sit well with the Congressman.

It was those small, quiet moments that Nathan could see, that were slowly starting to add up, that had him frowning. His grip on his wife's hand tightened and he downed his drink in a single swallow, turning back to his guests with an amicable smile.

There were just some things he didn't want to know.

xx

It would be hours before they finally had their chance to be alone, later that night after arriving home. The boys had been put to bed, Claire had shared small talk with Heidi before retiring and Peter and Nathan had retreated to the elder's study, sharing a drink as was their tradition these days after a major event. Peter had finally managed to take his leave, watching Nathan disappear down the hall leading to the room he shared with Heidi, and the younger Petrelli bounded for the stairs.

He quietly slipped into her room, smiling softly at the sight of her. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, brushing her hair, wearing a thin white nightgown that hugged her curves and bosom in way that stirred both his libido and pure male appreciation. He shut the door, making sure to lock it behind him. He turned around at a sudden sound, only to find Claire grinning at him, struggling to keep in her laughter.

"What?"

"You. If you don't want to be caught, that's definitely not the way to do it."

Peter looked down at himself, realizing she had a point. In his eagerness, his jacket was lying somewhere in the front foyer, his shoes abandoned somewhere in the west wing of the house. His tie was left at the top of the staircase, his shirt already half unbuttoned. He was a right mess.

"Huh," was the only response he chose to give. He finished stripping off his shirt, sitting down beside her. He pulled her into his lap, knocking her brush aside. Claire tangled her fingers through his hair, Peter leaning contently into her touch, and she pressed an affectionate kiss to his temple.

Peter couldn't help but smile at the small gesture. It was the things normal couples took for granted that he envied them for. For all the passion he and Claire shared, it was the small things, public kisses, holding hands, embracing for more than a few proprietary moments, and everything else he was not allowed, that he longed for the most.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he brushed his lips against her neck, "I may have been a little impatient."

She shivered at the sensation of his warm breath against her skin, turning in his lap to face him. "Guess I shouldn't keep you waiting then."

He ran his hands up under her gown, slowly slipping it off her body, and laid her back gently against the bed. He groaned as he realized she wasn't wearing any underwear, nothing left to keep him from having her. Arousal hit him head-on and the pull at his groin was just short of painful.

He kissed his way down her body, close to his intended destination as he reached her belly, only to be diverted when she grabbed his head, stopping him.

He looked up at her quizzically. "Later," she explained, "I want you now."

His brow furrowed with concern. "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

She buried her fingers through the thickness of his hair, guiding him back up. "I'm ready. Believe me, I'm ready." She looked up at him with eyes sultry with passion. "I need you inside of me."

"I need to be inside of you," he groaned. He eagerly fell over her, letting out another throaty grunt as he was met with her wetness. She wasn't bluffing. "Christ, Claire."

Claire arched an eyebrow. "Still doubt I want you?"

He groaned. "You'll be the death of me, woman."

She nudged his shoulder. "Condom, Peter. We almost slipped up earlier."

He blinked, as he realized she was right, that in his passion earlier that afternoon, he had completely forgotten protection. He swallowed, not wanting to think of the consequences. With that thought, he grabbed at the bedside table.

Claire giggled as he missed the drawer, nearly falling off the bed as he lost his balance. She wrapped a leg around his waist to keep him in place, her amused grin met with an exasperated look as he finally found what he had been looking for. He nibbled her neck as she took the packet from him, rolling the condom along his length. Guided to her, he finally gave them both what they needed, driving himself deep inside her.

"Yes," Claire moaned with approval, arching against him as he thrust into her again, and again, moving into her with hard, swift strokes.

No matter how many times they had, and would, come together like this, every time was as special as the last. He could never tire of making love to her. The feeling of being inside of her could never be anything short of extraordinary. Nothing had ever felt so right, felt so good, as being enveloped by the tight, silken heat of her body.

His hips continued to piston forward, Claire arching to meet him as they crashed together again and again. All thoughts of slow and gentle had long since disappeared. All that mattered was each other- the feel, the taste, the rhythm, of the other, as they raced toward their finish.

Claire threw her head back, crying out to him over and over. She opened hazy eyes to meet him, locking their gazes, as he fell over her with each thrust. Peter grabbed her leg, throwing it over his shoulder and she screamed with surprise and pleasure, the new angle bringing him deeper into her, hitting a spot that made all the difference.

Her world shattered into pieces, and he was there to catch her, his name issued from her lips in a loud, continuous mantra. Peter soon found himself following her, shuddering with climax as he emptied into her. His release was echoed by a boisterous groan reverberating from his chest, the sound startling them both as Peter let himself fall to her side, avoiding burdening her with his weight.

Claire whimpered at the loss of him, rolling over onto her hip to reach out to him. He groaned again, barely able to pull away from her. "Just a second, baby," he reassured, punctuating the promise with a quick kiss. Curling up on the tousled sheets, she watched him back his way to the ensuite bathroom. A moment later, she heard the toilet flush.

He swaggered back toward her with a lopsided grin, unashamedly naked and still half-erect. He climbed back into bed with her and they rolled around together, giggling like two giddy teenagers, scattering kisses and touches wherever they could find.

Her small hand wrapped around his softened cock, stroking him, and she grasped his hair to guide his mouth back to hers, lovingly coaxing his body back to arousal. He opened to her, to the silken slide of her tongue into his mouth, the teasing nibbles on his lips, and they parted only briefly to fetch a fresh condom. When her arms and legs wrapped around him, he buried himself inside her full-length.

Slowly, steadily, he rocked into her, Claire gently swaying into him with each movement. With the way they were positioned, facing side-by-side, they would not achieve the friction they needed. He moved to roll her onto her back but Claire stopped him. She shook her head, hitching her thigh up higher on his hip to hold him in place. "Not yet. I just want to feel you for a while."

Some sense of understanding began to blossom for Peter, and he followed her lead. He just let himself feel, the tension in him beginning to ease into a pleasant sort of warmth coiling in his belly, letting him relax into what came natural. He closed his eyes, heat and rhythm translating into the gentle back and forth of their hips. _The feel of her. _

He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. _The smell of her. _

He teased his lips over the sensitive place beneath her ear, earning a soft mewl of approval as he dropped heated kisses down her neck. _The sound of her. _

He lifted his head and Claire gave him a warm, languid smile, drawing him into a kiss. _The taste of her._

They parted their kiss, and eyes meeting, they moved with seamless synchronization to roll themselves over. Claire slid onto her back, hitching her legs up to firmly hug his hips as she threw her head back with ecstasy. Peter worked himself between her legs with a sense of sweet urgency.

It was all about sensation, he mused, and the synergy he sometime took for granted. The feeling of being ultimately _one _with her. And it was that unity he sought for now.

Claire locked eyes with him, digging her heels into his flanks as she arched to meet him. "I'll never apologize for this," she whispered fervently, "Never."

"No apologies," he agreed as his body rolled and uncoiled with each thrust, Claire moving with him in perfect rhythm.

This was what and who they were. They belonged this way, to each other, for each other. And they would never be sorry for taking the risk. Never. No take backs, no apologies. Just them.

Always.


End file.
